Prologue
by Omnia Mutantur
Summary: Set after the end of X-Wing Book 9 (13 years after ROTJ), this is my first fanfic, a story about fighter pilots new and old facing a new challenge - to put right a mistake from the Old Republic. Chapter 7 is finally up, and Chapter 8 is on the way. Please
1. Minefield

_Time to turn off the music_, he thought, as the warbling warning from his R2 unit informed him of the 10 seconds he had before the X-wing emerged into realspace. He clicked the playback unit off, adjusted his helmet, and took hold of the flightstick.

"Alright, Maestro," he acknowledged. Right on cue the stars came into view once again, first as long white streaks lancing past his snubfighter, then as the familiar pinpricks of light in the vast emptiness of space when the fighter snapped back to sublight speeds. Borath would have found himself gazing at those pinpricks of light, had he not known that some of them weren't supposed to be there, and that he had about a minute before they tried to blow him apart. "Rock and roll," he murmured to himself, flicking the switch at the left-hand side of his cockpit to open the craft's s-foils. Opening, they gave the X-wing its eponymous X shape and activated the four Taim & Bak laser cannons, one at each tip of the X. _And I'm gonna need 'em_, he thought.

The out-of-place dots of light, which were turning more a grey colour with every passing moment, were mines. Borath really hated clearing minefields, and this one had to go before he could destroy the communications satellites that they were protecting. Mines were small, vaguely star-shaped objects with intimidating spikes. They were hard to hit, and they fired at you. Not good news for fighter pilot who wanted to stay alive in time to make his next paycheque. Knowing that he wouldn't need his speed for much longer, Borath flipped the levers controlling power distribution. Shield recharge level to full, laser power pumped into shields and recharge up to full. 

Determined to get the first hit, he targeted the nearest mine, checked that his lasers were set to fire independently, and started to line up the mine. The targeting reticle started to flicker green; he wasn't quite lined up but he opened fire anyway. Trying to get a clean shot, he saw the first green laser bolts streak out to meet his own red ones. His throat went dry as he saw just how many there were. The targeted mine exploded, but his fighter rocked under the fire of the first salvo from the remaining mines.

His shields flared and Maestro shrieked as only terrified R2 units can. He had no choice. A quick flick sent energy from the recharging lasers into his damaged shields and he began his crazy dance. Twisting and rolling the X-wing around its central axis he started to dodge the incoming lasers. Volley followed volley as he swooped in on the outermost mines, his movements not betraying his fear. Frantic manoeuvring was no substitute for slower, more deliberate motions, he had found. By the time the mines had fired at his last position he had moved to a new one, only to rotate back to avoid the retargeted laser bolts. Borath chuckled to himself. "My turn," he muttered at the minefield.

Bringing up the closest mine he opened up once more. The mine exploded, but its dying shot hit him, along with some aimed at him by its neighbours. He cycled his targeting scanner, and swung to port for the next one. _A line_, he realised, _they're arranged in straight lines!_ Just a shame he'd started in the middle of one. He blasted straight down, his finger held down on the trigger. Mine after mine exploded, and only Maestro's keening shriek made him check his shield status; it was below fifty percent front and almost non-existent at the rear of the craft. Panic started to creep in. He dropped laser power into shields and swung around to face the next line of mines. He took out the first one, cycled his scanner, and noticed that the targeted mine was nearly a klick away. 

"Maestro, the one in front of me!" he tried to say, but only got as far as "Maes..." before a well-placed shot penetrated his shields and caused a small explosion. "Sithspawn! Maestro, what was that?!" He glanced briefly at his screen for the translation of his R2's diagnosis. Scanner was down. He almost laughed at the irony, but was too busy weaving through the never-ending hail of incoming fire and hoping that he could survive for the next 44 seconds. _OK, we'll do this the hard way then_, he thought to himself, as he rounded on the offending mine that was pumping laser fire into him at close range. It exploded, giving him long enough to spot the next one - high and right - without being fired at by the mines that were now trying to keep a fix on him. _Who needs targeting scanners anyway?!_ he grinned to himself as he took out mine after mine.

A triumphant blurble from behind him told him that the scanner had been fixed. "Yes! Maestro, nearest mine, now!" The target came up, Borath curved round to starboard to meet it, and yelled in panic as the mine appeared less then a deci-klick in front of him. He hauled the stick back and to port, and heard the undercarriage scrape the top of the spiky booby trap. On the way back around he dispatched two more and then took great satisfaction in killing the one that he'd almost crashed into. Weaving, dodging, spinning and shooting back at the lances of green fire, he finally came upon the last mine and wiped it out with one shot. He smiled grimly, and targeted the satellites. There seemed to be three groupings of five, and none of them were armed. Excellent. Thirty seconds were all he needed to eliminate them, flying through the explosion of the final commsat, laughing out loud in pure delight. Maestro let out a vituperative shriek.

"Oh, stop whinging about the damage to your paintwork and learn to have fun, you stripy tin can!" Borath chuckled, and then sighed as the adrenaline rush cleared and he realised how much he ached. Too much flying, not enough sleep. "OK pal, let's go home. That's enough excitement for one mission." The longsuffering R2 warbled his agreement, as it cut in the automatic piloting mode to prepare for the hyperspace jump home. The s-foils closed, Borath sat back, and watched the stars spin across the front of the X-wing, knowing that Maestro was lining them up on their exit trajectory. He'd just closed his eyes when Maestro moaned despairingly. He snapped alert again. A frigate had just jumped in-system, right into their path. "Sithspawn!" he cursed again, hammering the side of the cockpit.

He quickly clicked the manual override, but they were already too close to the frigate. It had opened fire, and the shields flared so bright that he could barely see. "Maestro!" he screamed. "Dump everything into the shields, and get us moving at top speed, right now!" He cut off his astromech's next whistling query, "No, never mind the Force-forsaken s-foils, we just need to get out of here! Get ready with the hyperdrive!" Borath tried desperately to get back into his weaving rhythm, but his heart was pounding so fast he could barely breathe. Salvo after salvo of starship-class laser fire slammed into his weakening fighter.

The frigate now filled the viewport, green streaks were everywhere, the lone X-wing spiralled under the thin neck of the starship and then screamed upward, finally on the other side of the monstrosity. Shields were all but gone. "Maestro, let's go, now!" The R2 unit warbled its affirmation, and then screamed as a laser bolt hit its casing and shorted its circuits. Borath cursed again and reached desperately for the manual hyperspace controls even as the frigate's lasers ripped through the engine housings and ignited the fuel tanks. Everything went white and then darkness descended.


	2. New Friends

Borath slammed his fist into the side of the cockpit, and closed his eyes, anticipating the harsh glare as the simulator opened up. He saw the glow of the strip lighting in the sim room in front of his closed eyelids, and opened his eyes when he was sure they had adjusted. His stomach was an angry, empty pit, and he very badly wanted to smash something expensive. He stood, looked around, and saw that only one simulator was still locked up. He would have smiled if he wasn't so furious at losing right at the end of the sim. The closed simulator contained the small, lithe form of Kaz Holloway; he recognised her R5 unit affixed to the replica X-wing, just behind the cockpit. Just as he was thinking that she must be either almost dead or almost ready to hit hyperspace, the canopy of the simulator hissed and lifted open. Its occupant emerged with sweat dripping from her happy face. Borath finally smiled. She'd won. The only one, by the looks on the faces of the other pilots.

She looked across at Borath and grinned. He grinned back, shaking his head at her boundless enthusiasm. Actually, she'd probably have been grinning even if she'd lost, but the expression of exhilaration on her face told him that she had evaded the frigate.

"Alright pilots, line up!" called Bamarz, their instructor. General Dreyfuss Bamarz had served the Alliance and then the Republic for many years, and could fly every fighter in the fleet, Imperial or Republic, with the same tenacious skill and proficiency. He was also a good, if gruff, instructor on the Cruiser _Destiny_. 

"Congratulations," continued, Bamarz, "to Holloway, the only one of you who completed that sim. As for the rest of you, what in the name of the Emperor's blood do you think you were playing at? Teskan, what happened?" he turned to the Calamarian at the other end of the line. "Your evasive flying was shoddy, you were lucky to survive as long as you did." Bamarz tracked down the line for his next victim. "Rokat, what have I told you about power distribution? Make sure your shields are on double strength before you enter a minefield - you don't need speed in minefield, you need to concentrate on your manoeuvring and shooting!" The general finally rounded on Borath. "Bordan, you are a mind-numbingly incompetent fool! What the hell happened at the beginning? You didn't doge the first salvo!"

"I wanted to get the first shot in, sir!" Borath replied smartly. "Just like I'd like to get in a shot at your big, fat, ugly face, you smug son of an Imp," he didn't add.

"Did I ask you to answer?!" Bamarz yelled, stabbing the air in front of Borath's face with his finger. "What kind of a strategy is that? No wonder you nearly screwed it all up before you'd started. You were lucky to get away with a busted scanner! And never, ever, put your feet up until you're in hyperspace. Got it?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good!" Bamarz moved back to take in the whole group. "That was awful! Even you two," Bamarz pointed at Kaz and Borath, "couldn't take down the mines in time to escape before the frigate arrived. I want a better performance next mission. I expect you all to brush up on your mine-clearing. That sim is now open to you whenever you need it. Now get out!" Bamarz was the first to the door. The pilots skulked out after him.

"Phew! Well, that was fun." The comment came from just to his left. He turned to see Kaz walking next to him. He chuckled.

"Yeah, for you! I, on the other hand, need to go change my trousers," he replied and with a small bow of acknowledgement he headed off to his quarters, leaving his friend laughing delightedly behind him. He smiled. The fleet needed more pilots like Katherine Holloway, pilots to whom the word 'arrogance' was something that was an accusation levelled at other people.

Unfortunately, not even the good humour that had been induced by her presence could detract from the failure that he felt. Bamarz might be an officious toad, but he was right. He should have won that sim. He stopped at a viewing port to gaze out at the stars, thankful that he hadn't really been out there this afternoon. It was then that he sensed someone standing behind him. He turned. Standing behind him were two men, wearing civvies. One was shorter than him, stocky but not fat, with brown hair and piercing brown eyes. The other was taller, slimmer, had an unobtrusive grace and a face that looked like it belonged in the holos. The shorter one stepped forward.

"Borath Bordan?" Borath nodded, and the man smiled, holding out his hand. Borath shook it. "Saw you take the minefield sim just now. That's a tough one." Borath smiled bitterly, and it wasn't lost on the stranger. "You shouldn't feel bad, Bamarz is hard on everyone. Your performance in there today was excellent. That was a sticky situation with the scanner. Just a little quicker, and you'd have been out before that frigate arrived."

"Bamarz was right, though. I did get careless," Borath admitted. The other nodded.

"True enough. My friend here was even more careless on his first run through that sim." The other man looked pained at this.

"Oh, the humiliation! And to think that I offered the frigate commander a collection of signed still holos!" He adopted a dramatic pose, hand clutched to his chest. "Where did I go wrong? I even offered him a private screening of _Win or Die_." The first man snorted, and turned back to Borath with a sly grin.

"Face here thought that he'd ignore the mines and go straight for the commsats." The tall man bowed. "Unfortunately, he didn't realise quite how vicious the mines could be and spent most of his time weaving around like a drunken Jawa trying to survive until his astromech could jury-rig his weapons systems to a point where they could be used without blowing up the X-wing." The tall man threw back his head, hand against his brow in an expression of mock affliction. Borath was suddenly sure that he recognised both of these two men.

"You called him 'Face', as in Face Loran? Wraith squadron?" Face bowed again, executing a dramatic flourish with his right hand. "Is he always this pretentious?"

The other man nodded, laughing, while Face looked even more pained. "Oh, yes! He thinks it makes him charming, when really it just takes a few seconds for people who've just met him to want to kill him. I'm Corran Horn by the way."

Borath's jaw dropped. "Corran Horn?! Rogue squadron?!!" Corran nodded. "You're a legend!" squeaked Borath, and then snapped his jaw closed. "Did I really say that aloud? Sorry. I sound like a third-rate holoshill." Horn just smiled. Face, on the other hand was oblivious to all this, concentrating on his performance of damaged pride.__

"Shot down like a womp-rat! Oh, the shame!" He suddenly stopped, aware that no one was really paying attention, and looked at Borath with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But perhaps not quite as much shame as my friend here," he began, indicating Corran, "felt when he had to run away from a burning Hutt-house without his clothes."

Face moved to lean on Corran's shoulder, but the shorter man deftly sidestepped. Discovering that even he couldn't support himself with only his ego, Loran collapsed with all the grace of a ballet-dancing bantha on the deck plates at Borath's feet. "You're a cruel man, Horn," he mumbled into the floor. He propped himself up on his elbows. "You have a vicious streak in you, you know, the size of the Death Star trench." Corran just looked at him, but Face kept on rambling. "Does Mirax know this? I think she should. An anonymous note should do it." Face flipped over onto his back, hands folded across his chest. "What do you think, Bordan? I think we should go together. She'd listen to an impartial witness. Maybe. What d'you say? Shall we go and single-handedly bring down one of the Republics heroes? I'm in a disillusion-the-galaxy kind of mood today. Think we should?"

Trying to stop himself laughing, Borath took advantage of the situation. He planted his foot firmly on Loran's chest, struck a dramatic pose, face upturned, arms spread wide, and boomed, "I just think it amusing that the mighty Face Loran, supreme botcher of minefield-clearing, prostrates himself before me! Just call me 'Master of the Universe', Loran, and we'll call it quits!"

Face looked genuinely surprised, then started chuckling. Corran's eyes had taken on a faraway look. Face looked at him and also became wistful. The two men smiled faintly at each other, sharing a memory. Borath felt awkward all of a sudden, and quickly removed his foot from Face's chest, who then stood, and joined his friend by the window. Corran turned to Borath, his face softening.

"You remind us of a pilot we once knew, a Devaronian." Corran snapped out of his reverie and grinned. "Nice meeting you, Bordan. We'll probably see you around." He walked past Borath and clapped him on the back.

Face followed after him, leaned in conspiratorially on the way past, and whispered, "You need a little work on that booming voice. Project from the back of the throat, it'll sound a lot more intimidating next time you stand on somebody." Borath just smiled and walked off to get a shower.

"Well?" Corran asked his companion as they headed for the flight deck. Face looked pensive for a moment, then turned his head toward Corran, a slight smile scrawled across his face.

"He's a little wacky, but with enough training I think we can turn him into a proper grade-A nutcase in time for him to join the Wraiths. Or are you trying to steal him for your boring bunch of Rogues, Horn?" He looked satisfied with the prospect of corrupting yet another up-coming pilot, but Corran wasn't impressed. Face sobered up, and took on a serious expression. "I think he's good Corran, I really do. There's a lot of talent there, he'd be a credit to either squadron pilot-wise, but he needs more than good flying for Wraith squadron. We are first and foremost a deep-cover, intrusion squad, remember."

"Agreed," Corran nodded. "We should follow his progress, though. And keep an eye on Holloway. She could be useful as well." 

Face nodded. "We still need to address this problem of your violent nature though. That dodge was a callous, and cruelly calculated manoeuvre. Worthy of the Emperor himself, in fact. Mirax should definitely know."

"Face?"

"Mmm?"

"I know the story of the 'personal cloaking device' that went wrong."

"Corran?"

"Yes, Face?"

"That's blackmail."

"Yes, Face."

Face clapped Corran on the back, and put his arm around the Corellian's shoulders. "Corran, my friend, there's hope for you yet."


	3. Old Friends

Feeling refreshed after his well-deserved shower, Borath headed toward _The Fuel Station_, the pilot's bar on the _Destiny_, known to all simply as the Station. He sauntered through the doorway to find Kaz Holloway already there, sitting at a table with Espar Kanord, a human from one of the minor houses of Kuat, and Rogan Teskan, the Calamari who had been on the harsh end of Bamarz' criticism earlier. His R2 was already there as well. Maestro's head whirled around as it sensed his approach, and blurbled happily.

"Evening, S2. Had a nice oil bath?" The little robot whistled again, this time with a slight edge to its voice. "Yes, I know, you deserved it. That sim was a bit of a nightmare wasn't it?" R2-S2 blatted his agreement in angry tones. "Alright, alright, well we nearly won, didn't we?" Borath looked up as he heard a low chuckle from the table.

"You sound like a married couple!" laughed Holloway. Borath took his seat.

"It's just an R2 unit! Why in the galaxy do you talk to him like a real person?" Kanord sounded incredulous.

"Just because he's a robot doesn't make him any less of a person, Espar," replied Borath as he sat.

Kanord opened his mouth to reply, but all that issued from his shocked mouth was, "AAAARGGHHH!" He jerked convulsively, his legs kicking out and unbalancing him from his chair. His long brown hair stood on end for a moment, a result of the electric charge that R2-S2 had applied to his ankle. The little droid whistled in amusement.

Borath frowned, trying to fight back the laughter that threatened to overwhelm him, and with a deadly straight face said, "S2, that wasn't very nice." Kaz laughed even harder at this, and their Calamari companion's fish-like mouth dropped even further open.

"Borath, your R2 unit is a health hazard. He should have a sign to warn people." Teskan had managed to close his mouth and reign in his amusement. There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it.

Espar was about to retake his seat, saw Maestro edging closer to him, and thought the better of it. "I'll see you guys later," he uttered nervously, and hurried off. Kaz shook her head.

"Poor Espar. S2, you hunk of junk, that was positively vicious!" For some reason, she was the only other person that S2 really seemed to like. He tootled happily at the well-intentioned insult, and Borath smiled.

"Careful Kaz, he might zap you too," he warned with a sidelong glance at the droid, only half joking. Kaz just laughed.

"He wouldn't dare. He knows that Art would only kick his motivators!" Maestro blurbled his derision at this comment, and Holloway chuckled, patting the disgruntled droid on the dome. "Don't worry Maestro, he'd only go for you if he wanted his paintwork stripped by those welders of yours!"

Borath shook his head wonderingly. Why did Maestro feel such an affinity with Kaz? Why not one of the other pilots, like Teskan, Borath's roommate? He would be the logical choice. Even the pair's astromech units seemed to get on with each other, despite the model gap. Kaz had an R5, a line notorious for the scorn it held for inferior R2s. Borath suddenly cut the engines on that train of thought. Was he jealous? No, Kaz was a dear friend. Did he resent the fact that that was as far as it went? He was pretty sure that while he may have loved Kaz, he was certainly not in love with her. Sometimes, though...

"Borath? We may have to use your R2 to return you to the land of the conscious, my friend." Teskan's watery growl cut through his reverie.

"Sorry. I was light years away."

"Tesk just asked you about the sim," explained Holloway.

"Yes, sorry. Er...well I think I'd have got it if I hadn't gone in aiming for that first mine. I could have kept the scanner intact, finished quicker, and avoided the frigate."

"I did not evade effectively. You did, I watched you on the monitor. How? Even Katherine here was not able to replicate your movements."

Borath avoided the sharp kick levelled at him as he said, "Well, that's because Kaz just fluked the sim, whereas I approached it with the skill of a Jedi." He grinned. "Seriously? It's quite simple. You just have to spin your craft around the stern-aft axis. It's especially good against incoming starship fire - dodge around the volleys. You can use it against fighters of course, especially running away. You move underneath the lasers and then back round to where they just passed over you and..." They were both looking at him, utterly bemused. He glanced around. The bar had got pretty full; most of the pilots were here. He stood, and placed a hand each on his friends' shoulders. "Let's go find us some simulators."

The flight deck was a bustle of activity. Nobody had time to gaze out at the stars, beautiful though they were. For all but two of the people, the stars had lost their novelty value anyway. For Corran Horn and Garik 'The Face' Loran however, the stars would always hold thrall over them. Pilots got that much closer to the stars than the capital ship gophers. With only a fragile metal shell to separate them, it was difficult to avoid the thought that a well-placed shot would send the occupant that much closer to those bright sentinels of space, where it was always nighttime. So fighter pilots maintained a healthy respect - and an even healthier distance - from the stars.

At this particular moment in time, these particular two pilots were looking out of the front viewport of the flight deck, at one sector of space in particular. Further out than most of the other stars, they were staring at the Minos Cluster. It has been suggested that Tatooine is the planet furthest from the bright centre of the galaxy. The Minos Cluster is even more remote, but slightly more vibrant. Or, at least it used to be before the Emperor's New Order arrived. Right out on the Galactic Rim, the Cluster was, and still is, a place for the galaxy's outcasts. Under the Old Republic there was a thriving entertainment industry, mining operations, and general colonisation. Corruption crept into the Republic, and so did the criminal gangs. As the Empire moved in, the criminal gangs began to take over. The Emperor even annexed one of the 70-plus habitable worlds for use as an exile planet, but so far out it was difficult to keep strict control.

The Rebel Alliance conducted extensive destabilisation exercises against the Empire there, and after their crushing defeat at Endor, the Empire began to pull out. When Coruscant fell to the Alliance, the Minos Cluster was soon relinquished altogether. The Cluster was left in a sorry state. With most of the dozen-or-so inhabited worlds under the control of the Twilek crimelord Yerkys ne Dago and policed by his gangs; the New Republic could only maintain a token presence. Now the Republic had achieved some kind of stability, the powers-that-be had decided to return to Minos. However, all this fascinating background left one question unanswered for the particular two pilots currently gazing out toward the Cluster. Face turned to Corran and asked it, knowing that he didn't actually know.

"Corran, what the hell are _we _going to the Minos Cluster for?"

"I don't actually know, Face."

"Hmm. Didn't think so."

A voice came from behind them. "We're going to clean it up." The two pilots turned from the viewport. Standing before them was Admiral Cruk Durnick. He was an average-sized human with no unremarkable features, but he exuded a certain presence that was difficult to ignore.

"We're going to clean it up, sir?" Corran sounded puzzled.

"I presume," began Face, tongue firmly embedded in cheek and a mischievous half-smile emblazoned on his lips, "that that means we're going back to remind everyone that the New Republic hasn't really forgotten they ever existed, and that we didn't really abandon them. We're going to point out that it was a strategic withdrawal, and that now we're back everything's OK? Happy families; touching, isn't it Horn?"

The Admiral was not impressed. "Loran, I don't think I like the implications of what you're saying there. The Republic had no choice but to concentrate our forces elsewhere, or have you forgotten characters like Warlord Zsinj?" The pilot's face lost all of its colour, and hardened into a pretty good impression of a block reinforced transparisteel. Corran placed a firm hand on his arm.

"We all lost friends and colleagues in that war, sir. Loran hasn't forgotten; as you well know, Wraith Squadron, and particularly Captain Loran, was instrumental in his downfall." 

Corran's voice was calm and measured, but the subtle, angry edge was not lost on the Admiral, whose eyes narrowed. "Gentlemen, you are here because the _Destiny_ will soon be setting course for the Mestra asteroid system."

Neither of the two pilots betrayed their surprise. Face merely raised an eyebrow. "With respect, sir, that doesn't answer my question." Face cleared his throat to ensure absolute clarity. "What the hell are _we _doing here?" he repeated, enunciating his words with deliberate care and attention. The admiral was not amused. In the slightest.

"Because, Loran, I was under the impression that you two fools were among the best we have."

"Among?" the pilot muttered quietly. Corran tried very hard not to smile. He didn't do very well. The admiral simply looked at Face, trying to stare him down, but soon found that he'd met his match. He looked past the two men to the viewport.

"Gentlemen, this is not going to be easy. New Republic Intelligence has uncovered some rather unpleasant news. It seems that the miners in the Mestra system are about to attempt some kind of _coup_. Their working conditions have been poor ever since the Empire turned up and ruined everything out there." Durnick was getting more and more agitated. Corran and Face looked at each warily. "The Minos-Mestra Corporation were pushed to ever more extreme measures. The workers are still suffering from intolerable conditions. The biggest asteroid, Javis-12, is the base of operations and makes Nar Shaddaa look like a holiday camp on Commenor. It's time the Republic did something about it, and we're going to make it happen."

The admiral's face was slowly turning red. He was furious. The two pilots exchanged glances once again. They had severely misjudged the man. It was almost as though this was a personal matter, and that would make him dangerous. They would be more cautious from now on. The admiral finally looked back to their faces, an intense expression adorning his own, his eyes flaming. When he spoke, his voice was as hard as the deck plates through which it resonated with a barely contained anger. "Those miners are going to be making a lot of fuss. They face attack from that Twi'lek crimelord ne Dago, annihilation from the poundies," ("Poundies?" Face mouthed at Corran) "and persecution from the Corporation."

The pit crews were all silent, watching the show. The admiral cleared his throat, realising his tirade had unsettled them all. He even managed a wan smile. "I was there for a short time with the Alliance during the Galactic War. We all fought for so long against that kind of tyranny and now it's happening on our own doorstep. Until now we've been powerless to help, fighting off the remnants of the Empire."

"So, we're going to put a stop to these riots then? Cool everything down and start over?" Corran interjected, still trying to make some sense of the admiral's speech. Durnick smiled humourlessly, sending a chill up the other man's spine. His voice rang out clearly on the bridge, metal being hammered on an anvil.

"No. We're going to help them. The _Destiny_ is going in to secure Javis-12 and we are going to forcibly disband the Minos-Mestra Corporation. They won't know what's hit them."

Now the pilots made no attempt to hide their shock. A deathly silence permeated the flight deck. No one spoke, no one breathed. Corran spoke. "We will meet resistance. The Corporation will not go willingly. What then?" The response came firm, determined, and cold as the vacuum of space.

"We eliminate them."

Katherine Holloway was having fun. Not that she didn't usually have fun anyway, but she was especially enjoying herself right now, because she was flying. Alright, so it was a simulator, but flying with her friends was always enjoyable. She valued times like this. The galaxy was not a peaceful place, and as pilots they would soon be in the thick of the most dangerous action, the kind with laser bolts, torpedoes, failing shields and screaming astromechs. These were her friends, and she knew that when they'd completed their training they might be assigned to different units, so she planned to enjoy every second with them while she could. Especially Borath. He was slightly wacky at times, but underneath she knew he was a shy, sensitive individual. He occasionally let his guard down but usually projected an air of oddball geniality that not everyone responded well to. There was no denying, however, that he was a good pilot.

He had been trying to show them his evasion method by running at a frigate and dodging its laser fire. Both of them had managed to duplicate his runs, and between them they'd destroyed the frigate. Now they were simply dogfighting each other. The sim was set up so each of them had a wingman, and whenever a craft was shot down it respawned a klick from the action to the good-natured taunts of its destroyer and promises of revenge. Not to mention another notch down on the scoreboard. At the moment, Borath was winning.

"I'm still winning!" he crowed, just to make sure his two friends knew. Kaz declined to answer, smiling.

"Art, track Borath. Let's have him," she addressed her R5 unit. He blurbled in response, and Borath's ship popped onto her CMD. Behind and left, attacking poor old Tesk by the looks of it. Kaz grinned, an idea occurring to her. She was only a couple of kills behind him. "Art, order our wingman onto Tesk," she said as Borath swung in for another pass at the Calamari. 

The wingman complied, and began firing on Borath's target. Kaz pulled up and round so that her wingman was just under a klick in front of her, and looking up, saw Borath come out of his loop to take down this new threat to his kill. Kaz shook her head in amusement at her friend's predictability. The X-wing had dropped in between them. As he opened fire on the new threat to his kill, Kaz switched to torpedoes, linked the firing tubes and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. Borath didn't have a chance. His droid hadn't had time to warn him of the impending launch. The double explosion rocked the snubfighter. Two engines blew out, but Borath had no time to be annoyed about it. A quick flick of the weapons select armed her lasers, and Kaz fired a few shots into the unfortunate craft. It exploded in short order. She glanced at the scoreboard in satisfaction as her score increased and the same value was deducted from Borath's.

"Very droll," deadpanned the respawned victim. "But that only makes us even." His final words were uttered at about the same time as Teskan's X-wing blew apart, under fire from Kaz's wingman. Her wingpair's score moved up again, surpassing Borath's. "Ah," was all he could manage. "OK."

Kaz turned and saw Borath's X-wing heading toward her starboard flank. He suddenly snapped up onto its starboard s-foil and then spiral downwards, towards the underside of her own craft. She went into a dive as well, rotating around and tapping the left rudder pedal to orient herself along her opponent's vector. Reaching the bottom of her dive, she looked up - and Borath was gone. Immediately she pulled up and banked left, assuming him to be behind her. Turning her head she saw Borath rise into view behind her. He waved at her and opened fire. Grinning she began the evasive manoeuvring they had just been practising.

A few of the shots impacted, but they all started missing as she began the swinging motion that had been so effective against the frigate. She suddenly danced right, left and then rolled left and dived down. Borath followed, but Kaz she slammed on the left etheric rudder pedal, rotating the entire craft back around to face the oncoming X-wing. She let off a sneaky torpedo and allowed Borath to veer out of her way. She banked around right onto his tail. From the corner of her eye she noticed a flare of light. Art whistled, the translation came upon her screen: Tesk had waxed Borath's wingman. She set her own on him and opened fire on Borath.

Borath was getting a bit annoyed, insofar as he could be annoyed with someone so eminently unannoying. His mental grammar always went to pot during a dogfight, so he settled for evasive instead. He was doing alright, feeling good, getting into the swing of things, until he heard a scream from the back.

"What now Maestro?" he called, and then noticed the flashing light on his HUD. Missile lock. He swerved left then right and down, but the flashing light didn't disappear. Another whistle; Teskan had taken out Kaz's wingman. Not particularly caring at that moment, he yelled in dismay as the flashing light went a solid green. Maestro didn't need to screech this time. "Target that missile right now, S2!" The R2 complied and Borath worked on getting out of the way of the incoming projectile, swerving, diving, climbing, rolling and doing every other trick he had learnt. He pulled up hard and rolled around when he saw that the torpedo was only a deciklick away and with satisfaction saw that he would be able to avoid it. Maestro screeched. "Now, wha..." he began, then screamed himself as he saw Tesk's X-wing right in front of him. He dove without thinking, straight into the path of the torpedo.

The torpedo exploded into the underside of his starboard s-foil, sending him spinning out of control. He had no time to regain control before Teskan rolled down after him, landed on his tail, and pumped shot after shot of burning red fire into his aft. Before he could say "Sithspawn!" Teskan had fired the fatal shot. _And I thought _I _was supposed to be teaching _them _something_, he thought before the screen displayed an external view of the explosion. He watched as Tesk flew straight through the explosion, and curled up and round.

The Calamari was having a great time. His mouth hanging open in the unmistakable Calamari grin, he headed after Kaz. He knew the other two were better pilots, but his ability to form more long-term strategies, even in the midst of a dogfight served him in good stead. The human's craft was only a couple of deciklicks away, and he opened up immediately. To her credit, she reacted straightaway, but it wasn't enough. Teskan was incoming on an oblique angle relative to her craft, and fell in easily behind her. With his acceleration dialled down to two-thirds, he easily met all her manoeuvres. He finished her off quickly.

Borath couldn't believe it. Teskan was winning! Four kills in eight minutes! Gutted was not too strong a word. He swung round after the Calamari, but he found his ship wouldn't move. "Maestro, what's going on?!" The droid just wailed, and then screeched in terror. The screen went blank, the canopy popped open.

"What the..."

"Borath, why..."

"Sithspawn, what..."

The pilots all spoke at once, but their voices cut short when they heard the announcement over the speakers, and saw the flashing red lights.

"All pilots to their craft, emergency scramble, Destiny is under attack. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill."


	4. Battlefield

R2-S2 was as surprised as his pilot, but being an R2 he worked things out slightly quicker. At the same time that Borath's stick turned unresponsive, Maestro lost all sensor input from the sim feed - he knew it'd been cut off. He was still interfaced to the ship's computer of course, so he rattled off a quick query. Naturally, it was in binary, so replicating here for the record wouldn't be especially useful. Suffice to say that it amounted to the droid equivalent of 'What in the name of the Sith-ridden Force is happening?'

It is a common misconception that vox-less droids communicate in simple, perfunctory terms. Their language is, in fact, as colourful as any organic's, although most droids cover this up quite effectively. R2 units are notorious for their individuality, their attitude being that how they speak is nobody's business so they will behave exactly how they want, thank you very much. Think of them as permanent teenagers with the added ability to be useful. They often adopt similar speech patterns to their owners, so a droid like R2-S2 is fairly restrained in his normal speech - Borath is not given to obscenity - but there are some with very foul processors. Sadly, superfluous expletive, even of the garden variety, is not above a droid. Right now, Maestro is pretty confused, so he snaps harshly at the central computer. Of course, it takes only 1/100th of a second. At this current point in time, Borath's brain is mulling over the fact that the X-wing isn't going anywhere, despite the stick being all the way across to the right.

The computer informs the impudent R2 that _Destiny _is under attack by several fighter squadrons. Currently attacking the _Destiny_'s fighter escort are two squadrons of R41 Starchasers, with another inbound escorting half a squadron of T-wings. S2 is cynical, and fires off a snide remark about dust on the scanners. (R2s do not hold very high opinions of starship computers, probably because starship computers do not like R2s very much.) _Destiny_ replies that it doesn't care what the R2 thinks, but it'd better get its metal butt across to the fighter bay right now because if it doesn't there won't be a fighter bay to worry about. S2 wails loudly (ignoring Borath's uninformed cry, although impressed that Borath's brain got around to it this quickly) and asks how far away the T-wings are. The reply (eight klicks) elicits a scream, and a rapid disengagement from the simulator before _Destiny _has the chance to be smart again.

By now, Borath's screen has gone black, and the canopy is about to rise. Maestro is pretty worried, and quickly hooks up with Kaz's R5 and Teskan's modified R2. They know about the crisis, of course, and are rapidly heading for the astromech service lift as well. None of them are very optimistic about their chances. Behind them, their pilots are emerging from their simulators, as yet blissfully unaware of the emergency they are about to face. It was at times like this that Maestro wished he was serving drinks on a sailbarge.

The pilots were immediately silenced by the announcement. Borath turned his head in time to see the astromechs disappearing down the service lift. _They're on their way to the fighter bay already?! _he thought. Teskan spoke.

"It seems that our metal companions are already on the way to the fighter bay." He was climbing down from his cockpit. Borath just jumped, thudding to the deck plates gracelessly, and almost falling over. Kaz landed nimbly from her jump and grinned at him.

"Time to get to the fighter bay, Borath! If Maestro beats you you'll never live it down!" she said and hurried out of the door after Teskan. Borath followed them, and crashed into Bamarz, who had amazingly managed to choose exactly the wrong time to walk past the door to the sim room.

"Get to the fighter bay Bordan! Your astromechs are already there!" he barked, and rushed off. Borath almost screamed, but broke into a run instead.

Unfortunately, he didn't run fast enough. He skidded into the bay in time to see Kaz and Tesk bound up the steps to their fighters. Maestro taxied his X-wing toward him, the canopy opening, and technicians diving out of the way.

"Hope you put the heaters on, Maestro, it's freezing in here!" he quipped as he swung into the cockpit. Ignoring his astromech's warbled derision, he flipped the canopy switch and took over the controls. Teskan and Kaz were already moving into position for take off, and the remaining techs were all leaving. Borath went for a cold start, firing up all four of the X-wings fusial thrust engines with no warm up, and then punched the throttle full forward, burning out of the magcon field ahead of his two friends. He heard Kaz chuckling over the radio, but she was soon cut off by another voice that Borath didn't immediately recognise.

"All pilots, listen carefully, this is Admiral Durnick. The craft currently attacking _Destiny_ must be eliminated immediately. Allowing any to escape may compromise the security of our next mission. Repeat all fighter craft must be destroyed at any cost." Borath's eyebrows migrated up to his fringe.

"Maestro, open a channel to the other two, and get me the nearest T-wing on the screen." The astromech complied, a bleep signified that the channel was open. "This is not right, there's something distinctly not right about this," he said, sounding flustered.

"It is unwise to disobey orders from your commander, my friend," answered the Calamari. Borath was silent for a moment as he evaded an attack from one of the R41s escorting the T-wings and then rounded on one of the bomber craft.

"There are R41s and T-wings attacking _Destiny_, fighters usually used by pirates, right? So how come our next mission involves pirates? And why doesn't Durnick want to capture a few for interrogation?"

"Think about it Tesk," added Kaz, "there's always stuff you don't know about pirates. Killing them all is not good tactics." Borath smiled as his target exploded, and was about to continue the conversation when another voice broke in.

"Stow it pilots, no private chatter. Switch back to the main channel right now." It was Horn. "All pilots, this is a battlefield situation, and I am taking command. I am now your immediate superior, and I want some of those fighters disabled."

Borath was momentarily distracted from Corran's communication by a pair of R41s who had decided to gang up on him. Getting annoyed, he sent his X-wing into an inverted dive, looping back up and around on the two pirates. He flicked his weapons select over to torpedoes and linked both tubes to fire simultaneously. The two fighters, still trying to work out where he'd gone, were less than a quarter of a klick away. He fired off two volleys, one at each ship, without bothering to aim. One exploded, the other managed to dodge one, which detonated anyway due to its proximity to its target, allowing the other projectile to penetrate the shields and destroy the entire rear end of the craft. Borath swung straight back to the T-wing he had been pursuing and opened up on it again.

Corran, however, was in the middle of getting himself court-martialled for insubordination. "B-wing group Blue, I want at least two T-wings and two R41s disabled right now. Other fighters, take down shields only, and then leave your targets to the B-wings, unless I specify otherwise." He hoped he hadn't pushed his luck.

"Corran, I hope you're not pushing your luck, my friend," came Face's voice through a private channel.

"So do I. Could do with some help here, though."

"What, with Durnick?"

"No, with the R41 that's about to wax me!"

"Aah. OK." Face, currently on Corran's wing, throttled back, pointing his fighter at the offending R41 that was crawling all over Horn's X-wing. He pumped shot after shot into craft, which exploded. "I see what you mean. Sorry," Face deadpanned, sounding as unapologetic as possible.

"I'll let you off. But what are we actually going to do about Durnick? He's going to be mad." As if on cue, the Admiral's voice cut through their conversation on the fighter channel.

"All pilots, this is Durnick. I ordered all craft destroyed. Somebody has some explaining to do." The flint-cold voice had returned.

"Sir," Corran piped up, "in accordance with New Republic battlefield precedent, I have taken direct command of all fighter groups. In terms of fighter experience, I outrank you, Sir, and am within my rights to request that some craft be disabled."

"Pilots, you will obey my orders - destroy all craft."

"All pilots, belay that order. Continue disabling craft. You may only destroy craft that present an immediate threat to _Destiny_." There was no reply from the Admiral.

"Corran," came Face's strained voice through the still-open com link, "be careful. It won't take him long to refute that sithspit excuse at a military tribunal." Corran knew, of course, that his actions could result in court-martial, but had tried not to think of that. He was a hero of the Republic, surely his opinion counted for something? And he knew he was right, with a surety born of the Force.

"Face, there's something very wrong here, I can sense it. Durnick's withholding something, I'm sure he is, he..."

"Corran, why can't you just use your magical powers to probe his mind? If we're talking security of the Republic here, I'm sure you'd get away with it. If you're right. If you're wrong, of course, they'll probably lock you up with an ysalamiri for life." Corran snorted, but the thought chilled him - he had considered probing Durnick forcibly, but wanted to steer well clear of any actions that would push him toward the dark side of the Force. He had tried a passive probe, just opened himself to Durnick's presence, but was left only with a feeling of general unease, not one of deliberate deception.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. But there's something fishy going on. Why doesn't he want to question these pirates? The more we know the better. Unless there's something about this mission that he doesn't want us to know, of course."

"Paranoia doesn't suit you Corran. I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for..." His voice broke off as red laser fire blazed forth from the _Destiny_'s gun turrets, raking across the battlefield. "On the other hand," Face muttered. Corran wasn't quite so calm.

"What in the name of the Sith is he doing? He's going to kill us all!"

"All pilots, this is Durnick. Several fighters are attempting to escape. They are still within _Destiny_'s mass shadow, and not yet able to jump to hyperspace. I don't want them to leave. Destroy them. This is a matter of Republic security."

This latest order reached Teskan's ears while he was attempting to evade the attack of an R41 pilot who had decided that if Teskan's defence of _Destiny_ involved an attempt to destroy the T-wing he was assigned to escort, he wasn't a very happy pirate. Teskan, on the other hand, would have given anything to be in a nice peaceful ocean somewhere, many light years from this cockpit, which was rapidly filling with smoke.

"Help!" he rasped over the comm. as he slipped right, barrelled hard over, and yanked back on the throttle. The R41 flew right past, while the T-wing dived back toward _Destiny_. _Sithspawn!_ thought Teskan, and he dived after the T-wing. With its shields down to only 20%, the T-wing didn't last long enough to fire on _Destiny_, and in a desperate last attempt to escape the R41, the Calamari pulled hard over, and nearly crashed into the X-wing of Espar Kanord.

"Woah!" came the human's voice over the comm. "I got him, he's down."

"Thank you, Espar." The human waved at Teskan from beneath his canopy and then wheeled around back to the fight. Teskan decided to take a few moments to get repairs done. "M9, time until repairs are complete?" he asked his astromech. _Only two minutes. Excellent_, he thought, as he glanced at the translation screen. He turned his eyes and his scanners to the fleeing craft that the pilots had been ordered to pursue and destroy. After a moment his brain paused, having realised that the two didn't agree. The CMD indicated that the craft had between five and eleven percent shields remaining. One had badly damaged engines, another inoperative laser cannons, and so on. His eyes, however, told him that if any of them were not very heavily armed, lethal and fully functional, then he was the son of a sea slug. He couldn't see any evidence of damage whatsoever, despite the cosmetic damage of peeling paint and scorched metal. It was a trap. Obviously. 

He turned back to the fight, and saw that it was almost over. Republic fighters were heading towards the fleeing craft. Perhaps it wasn't quite so obvious, the Calamari lamented. The ships were flying toward their own destruction.


	5. Ambushed

The fight may have been almost over, but the area of space around _Destiny_ was alight with laser fire from fighter and starship. Corran was most unimpressed. He was weaving wildly, trying to avoid both and still shoot straight. It was not easy, and his patience was wearing very thin indeed. He let out a strangled cry of rage as fighters began leaving the battlefield to obey Durnick's order to head off the enemy fighters that were escaping. He was about to shout an order into his comm. unit, when his X-wing rocked, Whistler, his R2, screamed, and he felt an explosion behind him. The lights on his radio went dead. 

"Whistler, fix it!" he growled, and turned his attention to the R41 that had attacked him. The offending R41 was, in fact, three craft, one of them a T-wing. He was in trouble and he knew it. He pulled up hard, directly into a stream of laser fire from one of _Destiny_'s turrets. He dodged left, right, up and down, and then dived out of the way. Immediately he was pounded by fire from the T-wing. "Whistler, I need that radio now!" he yelled at the droid. The lights came back on, and he punched it. "Face, get over here right now!"

Borath heard the cry, and swung around to see Horn's X-wing being mauled by three other ships. He hated bullies. Maestro whistled at him in warning. "Maestro, we can't just leave him. I know we have problems of our own," he continued, referring to the fighter that was trying to bag him, "but I hate bullies." To the accompaniment of Maestro's paint-blistering squeal, Borath slammed hard on the rudder, swinging the ship around at full speed, dumbfiring a torpedo at his attacker, and, lasers blazing, spun around, down, up and over the flaming rear of his erstwhile opponent and straight at Corran.

A shot from the _Destiny_'s gunners speared one of the captain's attackers, but he kept going anyway, so Corran armed his torpedoes once more, this time looking for a solid lock, the craft getting ever closer. He got one and fired, edging his snubfighter's nose toward the next craft, it was too close for torps by now, so he turned to lasers, dual-linked, and began firing. The R41 broke off, but the T-wing was still there. Borath's lasers pounded desperately on its shields, but they were up at almost full strength. The first R41 had returned, and had moved onto Borath, its new enemy. Borath forced the T-wing off Corran, but found himself in trouble. Two R41s had him in their sights, _Destiny_ was still firing, seemingly at random, and smoke was pouring out of the back of his fighter. This was not one of Borath's better days. Then everything happened at once.

Face Loran's craft rolled lazily into view, looking slightly the worse for wear. His voice came on over the radio as he engaged the enemy fighters.

"Looks like you two have got yourselves into a bit of a mess. That was a bit careless, wasn't it? Whose mother did you insult, Horn?"

"Face..." began Corran, but was interrupted by Teskan, who had just returned to the main battle from the other side of _Destiny_.

"Gentlemen, we have a problem. The fleeing fighters are leading our forces into a trap. They are not severely damaged. And they have now left _Destiny_'s mass shadow but have not gone into hyperspace."

Corran had forgotten what he was going to say to Face. "If they lead our fighters too far off a backup force could jump in, using _Destiny_'s mass shadow to end up behind our fighters," he reasoned. _Sithspawn!_ he thought to himself. "Whistler, open me a channel to the admiral. Just do it," he finished, cutting off the droid's protest. "Admiral," he began urgently, when the link had been initiated, "our fighters are being led into a trap. The enemy is out of the mass shadow, they haven't left, reinforcements are coming."

"Horn..." began the admiral sternly, but Corran cut him off.

"Sir, with all due respect, this has gone far enough. Call them back!"

"Horn, _Destiny_ has been fitted with a gravity well projector. A small one, but it's here. Now unless you want to face court-martial charges, get your ass over to the other side of _Destiny_ and start following orders!"

A stunned silence. Corran cut the channel.

"Face!" he shouted into the comm., "Face, that fool has a well projector up! Jumping in on top of it is simple! We've been led into an ambush, and the enemy has a mole somewhere in the command structure, maybe even on _Destiny_!" He was furious. Face wasn't too happy either.

"Sithspawn!" His craft was spinning wildly, firing at the one remaining T-wing. The enemy pilot was so pre-occupied with Face he didn't notice Borath heading up from below, firing as he went. The craft's failing shields were overwhelmed. The hull plates buckled and exploded outward. It was over. Almost. The few remaining fighters were running too, for genuine reasons. Face swung around and followed Corran. Borath and Teskan were close behind.

"Where are we going?" asked Face. "Just asking out of a perverse interest for my continued welfare, because to the untrained eye it might look like we were heading for that trap over there." He paused, a sinking feeling accompanying his next words. "We are aren't we?"

"It's not a trap if you know what's going to happen." Corran's voice had enough of an edge to cut _Destiny_ clean in half. Corran flicked a switch, opening up his comm. on the Republic's all-fighter frequency. "All pilots in pursuit of enemy craft: turn back now, you are heading into a trap. This is Captain Corran Horn, New Republic Starfighter Command, giving you a direct order - I take responsibility for its consequences. The craft you are pursuing are undamaged, and _Destiny_ is projecting a gravity well. Turn around now - it's an ambush."

Corran Horn's voice was as cold as the vacuum itself. He was stretching his engines to their limits, not convinced that the fighters would turn around. _Durnick has them wound so tight after firing all _Destiny_'s lasers, no wonder they want blood. _His hand tightened on the flightstick. _This is no way to run a fighter force_.

"Captain Horn?" Borath's voice cut in. "What's our plan, sir?"

"He doesn't have one." Face, unusually serious.

"No I don't. I'll work it out as we go. Durnick doesn't want us to find out anything from the pirates, and is willing to sacrifice his men to do it. He's covering his own back or the Republic's. Either way this is trouble. And my friends call me Corran."

The four X-wings were gaining on the fleeing craft and their pursuers. Borath's mouth was dry. And then he realised. Four X-wings. Where was Kaz?

It was at that point that the universe flared a brilliant white.

Face's vision cleared - he wished it hadn't. In front of him was an old dreadnought-class warship (modified by the looks of it) and a couple of squadrons of uglies. There were in the process of demolishing _Destiny_'s fighter force. With ease. A look at his status displays told him why. His weapons were down, as were his shields.

"Vape, get those weapons back right now!" he shouted. "Corran!"

"Face, I am now very, very angry." Corran sounded as though he was ready to take the enemy apart with his bare hands. His voice was shaking with pure rage. Face shivered. Corran unnerved him at times like this. There was no need for further discussion. They could both see that none of the Republic fighters had weapons or shields. It was four against...well, against a lot. But it didn't matter.

The four X-wings were about to arrive at the battle zone. Borath was already searching for Holloway among the exploding Republic fighters. Burning B-wings and X-wings were everywhere, caught off-guard and with no shields by the ambushers. The screams and cries of surprised pilots filled the airwaves, desperate requests for help echoed across space. The remaining craft that had not been caught in the first wave had weapons back, but were only able to recharge their shields very slowly. They had a chance of surviving for at least a minute, but past that, under the vicious onslaught from the pirates, their future was as bright as the inside of a black hole.

"Maestro, where is she? And where are my shields and weapons? Well I want to know now!" His weapons ready light returned. "That's better. Shields?" Maestro whistled that he hadn't returned the weapons to ready status, it had just happened. Borath didn't bother responding - the dreadnought and a bunch of X-TIEs were in front of him. _Uglies_, he thought with disgust. 

The fighters in front of him were an unholy amalgamation of X-wing s-foils and a TIE cockpit. They had shields and torpedoes, as well as the wing-mounted laser cannons, and the wings could rotate around the ball cockpit. Of all the uglies, this was the most dangerous variety - TIE manoeuvrability with X-wing defenses and weaponry. Lethal. He didn't care. With an enraged cry we dove in, firing as he went. The sheer ferocity of his attack (and a relatively lucky shot) caused the first casuality. It exploded, and its wingmate went spinning away wildly, unprepared for the new attack. Borath followed on that with a torpedo, destroying it. He only had one torpedo left, had to be sure of a good shot for that one. He wasn't likely to be able to get into _Destiny_ for restocking. As if mocking him, the dreadnought opened up on _Destiny_ who, it seemed, had been hit nearly as badly as the fighters.

Horn, Loran and Teskan had all had similar success with the unprepared uglies who, now aware of their new opponents, wheeled around and included them in their assault. The four Republic pilots realised how short-sighted they had been - with only slowly recharging shields, they were very vulnerable.

"Gentlemen, we need to take out that dreadnought. My sensors detect that there are a further four squadrons of uglies inside, and it poses a serious danger to _Destiny_," Teskan spoke up.

"Horn here. We need to secure our pilots' safety first."

"Corran, he's right. If we combine our remaining torpedoes' firepower we might be able to take it down." That was Face.

"We need to destroy these uglies or we won't have any pilots left!" cried Corran. That gave Borath an idea. 

"Why not do both?" 

A flaming B-wing tumbled past him, followed by a Die-wing, a combination Y-wing and TIE fighter, named for its astonishing combination of the worst aspects of both craft. Borath stamped on the rudder pedal and screamed his ship around a half circle. The Die-wing crumpled under his attack and exploded. He grinned, relieved that the B-wing was safe. A piece of debris from the dead ugly sliced through the B-wing's unprotected and weakened engine housing, and the burning ship exploded. Borath let out a pained cry. He did not wait any longer for a response to his unexplained plan. He opened up his comm. unit to all frequencies, knowing that the uglies would pick it up as well.

"Republic fighters, this is Captain Corran Horn. Form up on me, we're going after the dreadnought, prep your remaining torpedoes."

Without waiting for Corran's inevitable response, he wheeled around once more and headed for the dreadnought. The other three pilots got the idea, and formed an escort for the bedraggled Republic fighters. They had better shield status than the ambushed fighters, and with the uglies attention on 'Corran Horn', they had more leeway to act. Pirates were not as well-disciplined as military pilots, and had a tendency to go for more prominent targets with the intention of collecting kudos later.

Borath switched back to the Republic frequency. "We're going for the hangar bay," he began in a reasonable impersonation of Horn. "Take as many uglies as you can on the way, but stay with the group. And be aware of where your allies are at all times. No collisions."

A most unusual set of orders, and the group of Republic fighters were quite a sight. Dancing around each other, they fired on any uglies that happened to cross their path. Everything seemed to be going well. They were a couple of klicks out from the dreadnought now. From the corner of his eye, Borath saw and explosion. _Destiny_! He looked again, but it was intact. _Shields and hull are weakening though. We don't have much time._

Borath opened his mouth to give more orders when an X-TIE swooped in on the X-wing next to him, firing torpedoes. The X-wing exploded, knocking Borath into the path of another X-TIE. The missile lock light began flashing. Borath twisted wildly trying to break it, looping up and around. A B-wing flew across his path, followed by Die-wing. He swerved left and then an X-wing gunned after the Die-wing straight across his new course. He yelled and yanked the stick hard right. His X-wing's acceleration compensators squealed, but the lock light kept flashing. The light went solid and Maestro screamed. There was an explosion. It took a second for him to realise that his X-wing was still intact, and that, since the warning light had vanished, it must have been his attacker that exploded.

"You're clear 'Captain'." It was Corran's voice.

"Thank you, Flight Officer Bordan," Borath replied, grinning. The grin left his face as the dreadnought loomed closer, only a klick away, almost filling his viewport. He slowed. He could see the fighter hangar, could even see pilots and techs running around. The uglies were about to launch and destroy them all.

"All craft, listen up. Lock all your torpedoes onto the signal my R2 is about to feed you. Do it fast, do it now." He clicked the comm. off. "Maestro, rig a torpedo to emit a homing signal. Transmit it to all the other ships. At half a klick launch a normal torp. At .2 launch the modified one at the hangar bay. Do that now." A second later Maestro whistled. 

"All pilots," Borath spoke again, "launch your torps on my mark." Maestro launched the first torpedo. The dreadnought's aft laser cannons swivelled to the new dangers, first to the torpedo, then on the incoming craft. The Republic craft began weaving, another exploded, "Mark!" shouted Borath. His torpedo lanced out toward the starship, and pulled up sharply to avoid fielding one of the pursuing torps.

The first torpedo, Borath's, was shot out after a half second, but none of the others had locked on to the dreadnought itself, the gunners had nothing to aim by. They fired randomly as the Republic ships scattered, tried to launch more fighters, but too late. Maestro had registered 23 torpedo launches. The first couple exploded on the shield perimeter, but the others blasted through. They exploded in the dreadnought's fighter bay.

Fire burst from the hangar in a huge gout. A few X-TIEs desperately trying to escape the hangar were blasted forward on the tip of the flame, which lengthened as the warheads in the fighters still on the bay caught fire and exploded. The B-wings bringing up the rear of the Republic group were straining in an attempt to stay ahead of the explosion, one was engulfed, but blasted through, engines ablaze. The dreadnought was coming apart at the seams, explosions reverberating through the old starship. _Destiny_ was limping away when it blew apart. The flare died away, leaving only debris.

Borath whooped loudly into the comm., joined by half a dozen other pilots. "YESss!" There were still enemy craft around, R41s and uglies, but his heart was soaring about ten metres above his X-wing. Pure elation constricted his throat, and his whoop died on its way out of his mouth. Died. Like all those pilots. Pilots. _Kaz!_ He barely heard Corran's words.

"Good job. Now I want the last few enemies disabled. Now. No more fighters are to be destroyed, disable them only. Any further killing, and the perpetrator will report to General Antilles." He did not expect any argument. He didn't get any. The pirates' plan had failed, they were disillusioned, easy targets. The X-wings shot down their shields, and the B-wings ion-cannoned them into submission. The pirates were dead in space. 

The surviving Republic fighters hobbled back to the _Destiny_'s own hangar bay. It was in a shambles, but there was plenty of room for everyone. Borath popped the canopy on his X-wing and leaped from the top, ignoring the ladder that had been rolled up to his ship.

"KAZ! Katherine Holloway!" he shouted, running from ship to ship, looking for her. He couldn't see her. _No! Please no, please no, please not after all that, not like this, _"KAZ!"

"Borath?" A voice from the other side of the hangar. He turned, and dashed, full tilt toward his friend's battered X-wing. She jumped, catlike, from her cockpit, and he caught her clumsily. They hugged each other hard, tears of relief falling from their eyes. Teskan had heard them calling and arrived at a run. The three pilots held on to each other.

"I am relieved." Teskan's voice was husky and strained. Borath had never heard him this emotional. Kaz cried harder.

"Espar..." she choked up. "He's dead," she forced out. "He was one of the first to go. He..." she broke down, and the three friends stood there in the fighter bay mourning their dead.

Borath surveyed the scene. Similar incidents were occurring all over the place. The almost-empty place, Borath noted. _Almost empty, _he thought bitterly, _because we lost so many pilots. _The elation of victory had died. 

Only the emptiness of the hangar bay was left.


	6. Aftermath

Face caught up with Corran in time to see him disappear into one of _Destiny_'s turbolifts. Out of breath, he summoned up one last burst of speed and wedged his foot in the gap between the closing doors. They whoosed open as they detected an obstacle, and the pilot collapsed into the lift.

"Horn," he gasped, "your feet don't seem to be on fire, but you must have shot out of that hangar bay faster than a lizard-monkey from an electric shock." Corran said nothing, just stood, staring blankly at the doors, simmering. "I take it you're on your way to the bridge to kill Durnick with your bare hands. I'll take your silence to indicate that this is not a million parsecs from the truth. Well..."

"Face we lost good men and women out there, good pilots because Durnick was so determined to eliminate those pirates, for what reason we don't know. Quite frankly, I don't care right now, because I am going to have his ass hauled up before a tribunal for reckless and ill-considered action leading to the deaths of too many people. So help me, Face, I am going to destroy that man."

Corran was physically trembling with fury. Had he not been confined in a lift, Face would have taken a step or three back. Corran's eyes burned and he had to look away. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and closed it again. He turned to face the doors, standing next to his friend. Then he did risk speaking.

"Guess I'd better stick around then. Try not to do anything to get yourself summarily executed. Tact and subtlety are your friends." The words were barely out of his mouth when the lift doors opened and Corran stormed onto the bridge.

"Durnick!" he bellowed. All activity on the bridge stopped and all heads turned to watch Corran.

"I'd hate to see this guy being tactless," muttered Face as followed Corran off the lift.

"Durnick!" repeated Corran. "Get out here right now!"

"Horn!" came a voice from across the bridge, "you are in trouble." The admiral sounded almost as angry as Corran. "Wilful violation of a direct order, insubordination, insolence - you're heading toward a busting, let alone a court-martial, and now you have the temerity to stride onto my bridge and shout at me like I was a trainee! Get back to your quarters right now, or I'll have you forcefully removed and confined there!" Durnick was spitting blaster bolts, but Horn looked like he was prepared to actually open fire. Face winced.

"Well, there go our commissions," he muttered.

"I am going to damn well shout all I want at you Durnick, and by the end of this day, so help me, I'll have you up before Ackbar! What the sith were you doing out there, you stupid fool? You opened fire on your own people, then you sent them headlong into a trap! I warned you, I warned you it was a trap, but you were too caught up in whatever personal vendetta you must have against these pirates!"

The bridge was deathly silent, and the deck plates shook with the force of Corran's bellowing. Face was murmuring something about commissions not mattering when you're dead, but it wasn't nearly over yet.

"Horn, you are out of line! Security! Drag this man off my bridge and lock him in his quarters!"

"Stay back!" he screamed at the security guards (who, incidentally, had no intention of moving anyway), as the air around him began to crackle. Face had the option to step back this time, and did so. Corran's anger was manifesting itself through the Force. _Not good_, thought Face. This was going to get messy.

The shuttles took off from _Destiny_'s secondary hangar, their pilots blissfully unaware of the confrontation on the bridge. The group of five Lambda shuttles deployed their fold-up wings and headed toward the disabled ships that had been readied for capture in the closing moments of the battle. The pirates watched the oncoming ships and prepared themselves for the inevitable interrogation, terrified. They needn't have worried about it.

The shuttles opened fire.

Face, a helpless observer to the unfolding battle felt his insides freeze when he saw the flash of light through the bridge viewport. He ran to it in time to see the shuttles flying through the remnants of the pirate ships. Corran was at his side. They both turned to back Durnick, faces like flint. Corran advanced on the admiral, who held his ground until he realised than Corran was not going to stop. He moved back, remembered that he was in command and halted. Corran stopped right in front of him. When he spoke his voice was so soft that Face could barely hear him. Durnick met his gaze.

"What have you done?"

"My duty."

"Your duty does not cover murder. You will answer for this, admiral, believe me." Corran pushed past him and marched toward the lift. 

Face was also moving toward it when Durnick said, "My duty is to defend the Republic in times of war against its aggressors." To Corran's surprise, it was Face who turned back to the admiral.

"We're not at war any more!" he barked. "The war is over, admiral, the Empire is defeated, and we're supposed to be aiding the rebuilding of this galaxy, not destroying it all over again!"

The pilots entered the lift and the doors closed on their fury.

Borath answered his door in his bathrobe, still wet.

"Yes, what do you...oh, hello Captain. What can I do for you sir?" Corran was standing there, still in his flightsuit, looking tense. The smile didn't quite come off.

"You've done enough for me today. You acted with courage and presence of mind out there Bordan, and you probably saved us all - you certainly saved me. Without you, those fighters would have made space dust out of me. Thanks."

"My pleasure, Captain. Any time you fancy another trip to death's door, just let me know and I'll pull you back." 

This time the chuckle was genuine. "I told you Borath - call me Corran."

"So, Corran, you killed Durnick yet?"

The other's face lost its humour. "I'm just going to make a call. See you around." With that, he turned and walked off. The door closed, and Borath hoped never to be in Corran Horn's bad books. His vidscreen then lit up, indictating an incoming call. He walked over to it.

"Bordan here. Oh, hello Kaz."

"We're going over to the _Station_ for a drink. Coming?"

"Yeah, sure. You'll have to give me ten unless you want to be seen drinking with a man in a bathrobe in a public place."

Kaz grinned. "Oh, perish the thought!" She signed off, and Borath smiled. He went to find some clothes.

"Wedge, this man is not only incompetent, but he's hiding something. He has his own personal agenda on this mission, and that makes him dangerous." Corran was raising his voice again. General Wedge Antilles had known Corran for the best part of eight years, and could see the pain in the man's eyes.

"Corran, I can see how much this has upset you, but I really don't know anything about this Admiral Durnick. I may be piloting a desk, but I'm not the squadron leader, if you see what I mean. I don't know who all our line officers are, and I certainly haven't the authority to reassign them." He knew exactly how Corran felt about this, and knew what he would say next.

"Wedge, can't you go to Admiral Ackbar about this? At least find out who this guy is? You should have been here to see it - he nearly got his entire fighter force wiped out! At least two of ours went down after taking friendly fire from _Destiny_! And he just killed those pirates we disabled - there's something he doesn't want us to know, and the Republic doesn't work like this, surely?"

"Alright Corran, I'll try to get some background on the man and the mission. Meanwhile, you look awful, get some rest." Wedge knew how the other man was feeling - he'd felt it so many times, seeing children fly to their deaths in Rogue squadron.

"I don't feel like resting right now, Wedge. I want to prepare a formal report on this and get it logged with Command."

"Corran, that may not be the best idea. You know Command doesn't like unsolicited reports - you didn't have an assigned responsibility on this one, you could be making enemies that you don't need right now." Corran was getting agitated now, Wedge could see that even over the vidlink.

"Durnick sent those pilots to his death, Wedge, and he didn't listen to what we told him from the battlefield. What kind of a commander doesn't listen to warnings like that? He could have at least have his sensors check it out! I won't let him get away with this!"

Wedge sighed and ran his hand through his black hair. "If you think it's best Corran, then go ahead. Have your Jedi senses picked up anything that Durnick might be concealing?" Corran shook his head.

"Only a feeling of general unease, a little apprehension about the mission ahead. He could be concealing something, but only a well-trained mind could conceal something like that from a Jedi mind-probe. At the moment, I'm reluctant to tap into the Force, I..." He broke off.

Clearly something was really bothering him about his Force abilities. Wedge didn't dare think. _With Corran this angry..._ Wedge decided not push it and just nodded. "I'll get on to Ackbar right away." He looked up at Corran. "He was wrong today, your admiral, and even if nothing serious comes out of this, Fleet Command are going to want some answers from him." 

Corran thanked him. "And I'm staying on here, Wedge. I won't let Durnick throw me out. If anything I want more experienced pilots. We're certainly going to need replacements fast."

"They might be meeting you at Minos itself. I'll see if Ackbar will let me send another cruiser out there." There was a twinkle in Wedge's eye. "Meanwhile, try not to kill your immediate superior before Ackbar has a go at him." Corran grinned, but it was weak. Wedge's eye lost its twinkle. "Take care of yourself out there, Corran."

The other man nodded, and signed off, collapsing in his chair. He picked up a datapad and began to work, but found he couldn't concentrate. He needed to be relaxed if he was going to get this formal report done, and that wasn't going to happen sitting in his quarters brooding. He leapt up, and headed out the door and down the corridor.

Admiral Cruk Durnick gazed out of the window in his ready room. He had made mistakes today. He had made an enemy of Corran Horn, for one, and that was not a good idea. He had the feeling that Horn would be around for a while longer, and that he would be getting a call from Fleet very soon, probably from Ackbar himself. Horn was a hero of the Republic, and had contacts that could make serious trouble for Durnick.

But it had all been necessary, he knew it. All the deaths, they were unavoidable in war, and this was war, no matter what that smart-ass Loran said. And in war, there would always be casualties. They were necessary. In war, there were no murderers, only heroes.

"Thought I might find you here." Face Loran's voice cut through Corran's thought processes. Corran looked up, and saw Face hovering by the table. The other pilot sat down opposite him. "So, it looks like it's about time for the traditional post-slaughter discussion on the point of it all."

Corran managed a limp smile. "Well? What is the point of it all?"

"My friend," Face began wryly, "if I knew that, I'd be making millions selling my memoirs, not be sitting here talking to you."

Corran gave up the pretence of a smile. "There was no need for any of this, Face. Just no need. You said it yourself, the war's over. The Republic is supposed to be spreading peace through a troubled galaxy, not heading off to some abandoned backwater."

"The Old Republic made a serious mistake at Minos, Corran. You've read the briefing, heard the admiral's rant. We're out to bring justice back to Minos."

"What if they don't want it? What if they've had enough of our interfering? This isn't about justice, anyway - it's about politics, it always is. The Republic is expanding its territory, gaining influence and resources. It's politics and you know it!"

Face was taken aback by this; he hadn't expected Corran to come out with something like that. "Cynicism doesn't suit you, Corran," Face tried to make light of it.

"Come off it, Face, you know I'm right. What reasons does any government have to 'bring justice' to anywhere? The Emperor and his New Order brought justice of a sort to the worlds he conquered. Not all of them resisted the Rebellion from fear of the Empire - most of them were glad for the peace the Empire brought them. Thousands of worlds benefited from genuine law-enforcement."

Face had had no idea that Corran was going to be this bad. He must have been really hit hard by the battle, Durnick had really got to him. And Face found it hard to refute all he was saying. But not some of it.

"Corran, the Empire was led by the Sith, it practiced discrimination of all sorts, oppressed its opponents, killed the Jedi, established totalitarianism and suppressed democracy."

"And what has democracy got us?" Corran continued bitterly. "Now every fool gets a say in how the galaxy's run. People like Durnick wouldn't have been able to do what he just did in an Imperial fleet. And as for law-enforcement? Hah! The Republic's in the business of recruiting smugglers, black marketeers and other assorted criminals who have 'gone respectable'."

"Yeah, most of whom have sacrificed a lot for the Republic and been instrumental in bringing peace to the galaxy."

"Face, we don't have peace in the galaxy! What's this mission to Minos for? Imposing our order on another few sectors of space. Even the best intentions can be corrupted so easily. Sometimes I wonder why we bother with a central government at all. We only end up in wars and 'local disputes'. Legalised killing, Face. The admiral's right about one thing - we are at war. We'll always be at war, we'll just call it 'peacekeeping'. Ironic, isn't it"

Face was about to respond, but saw that his friend was upset. "Corran, we've lost friends in the line of duty too often to get like this every time something makes us doubt the rightness of our actions. You'd prefer that the various factions in the Minos Cluster continue their activities? You want some Twi'lek crimelord trying to wrest control from a corrupt corporation with everybody else caught in the middle suffering and being exploited? You can't say that's none of our business. Come on, Corran, pull yourself together."

Face was expecting another tirade, but he didn't get one. Corran spoke quietly now, without anger. "We didn't even lose any friends out there, Face. Maybe that's the point. Our friends are always hailed as heroes. They died for a purpose, for a reason, protecting their friends and loved ones, or defending some innocent population, or toppling an evil empire. These pilots just got slaughtered for no good reason, and no one will ever know." Tears entered Corran's eyes as he thought of all those he knew who had been lost in battle, and Face felt his own eyes prickling. He looked around.

Borath and his companions were sat at a table with similar expressions on their faces. He shook himself. "Hey, Horn, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Some people did lose friends today." He pointed over at the other pilots. "You can't isolate yourself from these people just because you might lose them too."

Corran was about to protest that this was not the reason he hadn't gone to sit with them, but stopped himself to think about it. It was, wasn't it? He stood, and Face did the same. "Alright." He wiped a hand over his face, ran his fingers through his hair, and walked over to them. "Mind if we join you?"

Borath looked up, met and held Corran's gaze for a second, and said, "Sure." The two older pilots pulled up chairs for themselves. He motioned to the server. "Lomin ales for these gentlemen, please." He pointed at Face and grinned. "On his tab." Loran's face was a picture of surprise and amusement. He nodded at the server, still grinning.

"Well at least you weren't standing on me this time." Kaz and Teskan both looked puzzled and Borath grinned.

"This is the mighty Garik 'Face' Loran, and his companion is Corran Horn." Borath turned to his own friends. "Katherine Hollway and Rogan Teskan." Nods were exchanged.

"You saved us all early, Rogan," said Corran. "We wouldn't have known about the trap."

"It was unfortunate that so many also died. And please, call me Tesk."

Corran only nodded. "One day we may find out why. It may even have been worth it."

The silence at the table was not any less poignant for all the background noise in the tapcaf. It was broken by the ship's intercom system.

"All hands, be advised that _Destiny_ will be entering hyperspace en route to the Minos Cluster in thirty seconds. Repeat, twenty-nine seconds to hyperspace." Twenty-eight seconds later, they all felt the slight shift that indicated hyperspace entry had been completed.

"We may know soon," said Teskan. Kaz looked at him, slightly puzzled.

"Whether it was worth it," explained Face.

"I doubt it," muttered Borath. He hoped he was wrong. Corran knew that whatever it was, it had only just begun.


	7. In Transit

Shesharile 5 is not a pretty place. In fact, it's a dump. Say the words 'cess pit' to any resident of the Minos Cluster, and they'll think of Shesharile 5. They even sound similar. Kind of. Anyway, even if the name was changed, it'd still be a dump. So please, picture the scene.

Years of pollution have devastated this moon's ecology. Even when it became obvious that the pollution was gaining the upper hand over the various initiatives that had been spawned to combat it, the polluting continued. The efforts of the planet's corrupt government were turned to pleasing the Imperial occupiers, so when they pulled out, the whole place collapsed. Criminal gangs now run Shesharile 5 and its twin 'planet', Shesharile 6. Today happens to be a particularly disgusting one - murky, wet and utterly foul. Shesharile, the gas giant around which the moons orbit, is a big, fat, ugly, muddy smear on the sky. Nobody is in a good mood today.

Especially not Yerkys ne Dago. He is a Twi'lek, he has a foul temper at the best of times, and he is very well muscled. When angry, his left lekku, one of two flexible head appendages packed with sensory organs, 'brain tails' as they are called ('lekku' in the Twi'leki language), flexes. Today, it looks like an enraged and injured Delboan sand snake. Or a violent ysalimiri on spice.

"Sir," began Broa Denan, ne Dago's major domo in a subdued voice, leaning in toward his master. His sentence was abruptly cut short as his master's lekku lashed back into his face, knocking him back and momentarily speechless.

"What happened to those fools? They were my best pilots! And my Dreadnought! Those Republic monkey-lizards are going to pay for this!" The crimelord was seething with fury. He is, after all, used to getting his own way. 

His gangs control the Shesharile Twins, and most of the illegal business in the Cluster, in fact. Staying on his good side is a good way to ensure survival. If the pilots were still alive now, he'd probably have torn them apart with his bare hands.

"YOU!" Ne Dago whirled to face Denan, pointing his finger like a blaster. Denan looked at it like it was about to shoot him. "You obtained the information about this Republic taskforce - a single cruiser!"

"Yes, magnificence, yes, and my source is reliable, I swear it! And their mission is to overthrow the Corporation, a single cruiser, yes. Although the latest intelligence says that more craft may now be joining the _Destiny_ for their assault on Javis."

"MORE SHIPS?! Haven't we suffered enough from one? I will not let the Corporation fall, not know I've finally taken full control of it, do you hear me Denan? You tell that to your source!"

"Yes, Yerkysned Ago," began Denan, using the Twi'lek honorific and bowing low. "He knows; he serves aboard _Destiny_ itself, he will not let us down."

Ne Dago stopped moving completely. Denan couldn't even see him breathing. He considered running for the door, but decided that ne Dago would probably just shoot him if he did. "He serves...aboard _Destiny_?"

"Yes yes, your honour, but he is not a Republic Intelligence plant, I know it, I know the man, he is not, please believe me." The words came out in a rush.

"For your sake, I hope so." Ne Dago stormed out of the room, leaving his assistant trembling. There could be no mistakes. _Destiny_ must be destroyed.

The door chimed. Borath sighed. Only two days into the jump and he was fed up already. Not even the prospect of earning his wings cheered him up. "Yeah, come in," he called. He swung around, his head about a half second behind his body. He glanced up wearily, his eyes widened, and he bolted up, saluting Flight Instructor Bamarz. "General!" he greeted the man.

Bamarz smiled, tiredly. "At ease, Bordan." 

Borath forced himself to relax. "Come in, general, have a seat, please." The general nodded his head in thanks, and took a seat. The door swooshed shut, making Borath start. He circled the general warily, like a Jawa edging around a sleeping Krayt dragon, convinced that the beast is about to wake, laugh, and tear him to pieces.

Bamarz just chuckled. "Sit down, Bordan, for goodness sake! You're making me nervous!" Borath did. Cautiously. "Bamarz wasted no further time. "You did well in the final sim, Bordan. No surprise there, then. And to think, just a few days ago I was reprimanding you for careless flying. Well, happens to the best from time to time." Borath looked surprised. "Yes, Bordan, you're one of our best. Both the Wraiths and the Rogues are going to be fighting over you, I think. Your little stunt during the battle for _Destiny_ was unorthodox and incredibly effective. Well done. Just wanted you to know that I'm really proud of you."

Borath didn't quite know what to say. It had never crossed his mind that Bamarz could actually be nice. "It wasn't just my flying, sir. I couldn't have done it without the others. Especially Teskan and Holloway. Not to mention Loran and Horn."

"Mmm, I'm on my way to see Holloway and Teskan now." Bamarz rose, and headed for the door. Then he stopped, hesitating. "I wanted to see you first, and to...warn you. Stay away from Horn and Loran. They're trouble." Bamarz' gruffness had returned. "Force be with you, Bordan."

And before Borath could reply, his former instructor had left.

"And he just left?"

"Yeah. Weird, eh?"

Teskan took another sip of his drink. "The general may have been correct, Borath. Horn and Loran caused a scene on the bridge after the battle - they had shouting match with the Admiral."

"I don't think they're trouble," Kaz spoke again. "Not for us, anyway. They probably have enough influence at Command to get out of this, and they were right, the Admiral was careless."

"Heads up, guys," Borath said jerking his head toward the door of the crowded _Fuel Station_. The others followed his direction and saw the two pilots walking in. Borath waved. They headed over, pushing their way through the pilots, and threading themselves around the tables. Corran looked particularly haggard.

"Horn," began Borath when they arrived at the table, "you look like you fought your way through a horde of Gran single-handed, only to discover that the barman just ran out of Corellian whisky."

Corran shot a viciously sharp-edged glance at the younger man, which would have been more effective had he not fitted Borath's description perfectly. Face chuckled, smugness etched into his features. "He had to go apologise to Durnick. Nicely. Graciously. I didn't." Corran levelled his gaze at his companion. Face stared right back, and Corran finally grinned.

"Yes, alright! But you should have seen his face. He'd just got off the vid-link to Ackbar. Wedge told me that he was going to get a strip wider than Beggar's Canyon torn off him. He'd just been read the riot act, and all I had to do was apologise!" Corran's grin faded. "I'd rather not have him as an enemy, though. And I think I used up all my favours at Command, too."

"Best behaviour, pilot!" exclaimed Face in booming baritone. All the pilots smiled wanly. They were still suffering the after-effects of the battle.

Borath saw the awkward silence that was hovering over the conversation, ready to descend at a moment's notice, and spoke. "Did General Antilles tell you anything about this mission?" Face also looked expectantly at Corran now, so Borath assumed that he hadn't been told anything either.

"Yes. Sort of. All he knows about the mission is that it will involve a hit-and-hold strike on Javis-12. A small initial strike team of B-wings with A-wing escorts take care of the 'hit', followed by transports and X-wings to execute the 'hold' part. There are bound to be asteroid-related complications, but Wedge doesn't know anything beyond that. It has to be a quick op - we need control of the main control room on Javis before the Corporation gets heavy reinforcements in, or they manage to turn the obligatory hidden defences on us. Another cruiser is joining us at the Cluster itself - it's jumping straight to the edge of the Javis system as backup." Face nodded thoughtfully. Borath was about to raise a hand to ask the piercing question 'Eh?!', but Corran continued.

"There was even less on record about Durnick himself. He served in the Cluster during the War, hence his personal connection and desire to return and sort the place out." Face nodded, and Borath could almost see a light of understanding click on above his head. "That's about it. No other comments, no other notes, practically. Just your average, run-of-the-mill admiral." Corran's eyebrows knitted together. "It's not right, though, there's something about that man..." He shook his head, as if it clear it.

Borath cleared his throat dramatically, raised a finger as if about to make a point of galaxy-shattering importance and, turning to Corran and Face, screwed up his face and asked, "What?"

Both men looked puzzled, but Face twigged first. None of the others knew anything about their mission to the Minos Cluster, other than the name of their destination, nor were they aware of Durnick's strong, personal feelings about the mission. He quickly explained the background - the Old Republic, the deterioration under and after the Empire, the miners, the Corporation, the gangs run by the Twi'lek crime boss Yerkys ne Dago, the Republic's intention to return law and order. Corran snorted, but made no comment. 

Borath thought he knew what that meant, although Corran was the last person he would have expected such un-Republic sentiments from. Disagreeing with this mission of spreading the New Republic's influence farther? _That must be what losing so many friends makes you realise_, he thought. And thinking of those that had already lost their lives for nothing on this mission - Republic and pirate alike - Borath couldn't help wondering if Corran was right.

Right or not, Borath knew that the thought would haunt him for the rest of the jump, and longer. It was going to be a long couple of weeks.


End file.
